


We say war (but it still sounds like love)

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Loki Has Issues, Love/Hate, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Serial Killers, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, descriptions of crime scenes, this is heavily inspired by hannibal can you tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crime scene is tidy. Unnervingly so. From the arrangement of the corpse on the floor - laid out flat, arms spread horizontally (Thor thinks, <em>a cruel imitation of Jesus on the cross</em>) - to the arterial spray on the wall; vivid red delicately splattered across pure white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We say war (but it still sounds like love)

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit. I've been writing this fic since November and it's gone through no less than ten redrafts to finally get to this stage. And I still don't think it's good enough but tbh I'm sick of looking at it at this point. This is what I do when I'm avoiding my responsibilities (also known as; college and updating my other fics). 
> 
> ...also forgive me this is trash
> 
> A couple of things to note about the timeline; it's a bit jumpy, but hopefully not too difficult to figure out. The sections written in italics are stuff that happened when Thor and Loki were teenagers, and the rest is more or less present day.
> 
> LASTLY sorry for any errors or dumb typos. Feel free to point them out to me, I'll probably proof read this tomorrow when I don't feel like my eyes are about to set alight.

_oh but my sins must have been holy,  
for the way I worshipped him_

*

Loki wipes the blood from his face and lets the knife clatter to the floor. 

_He prefers blades (always has; always will)_

Thor’s watched him working. He’s precise, efficient – handles both body and blade slowly, almost reverent in the way he separates skin and exposes bone to the open air. It’s sick, what he does. What they both do. But Thor can’t make himself stop, can’t possibly make his brother do anything he doesn’t want to. 

He closes the gap and pushes his brother down onto the bed with a firm hand. Loki's hair fans out on the sheets beneath him like a dark halo. Thor can't help but find it hilariously ironic as he follows suit just a moment later when he swings a leg up, settling his knees either side of Loki's hips. He leans forward and braces a hand on either side of Loki's face - he licks his lips, and cocks an eyebrow. 

"Do you want something?" Loki asks, voice dry and erring on the side of sardonic. It's his default tone, Thor's grown well used to the façade his brother hides behind; can see through it now in the way his pulse jumps, rabbit-like in its quickness, beneath his skin. A grin, unbidden, finds its way to his lips.

"Yeah," he says, "As a matter of fact, I do," 

\- 

**(i.)**

_"I want to be a detective!" Thor announces as he bounds into the room, mud smudged across one cheek and costume policeman's hat balanced precariously atop his head, "Just like you, father," he adds, expression turning serious; determined. Odin laughs and reaches over to ruffle his eldest son's hair proudly, gaining him a toothy grin._

_"I do too!" Loki insists, indignant. He's only a few steps behind his brother; always is._

_Perhaps this is where it began, a sunny afternoon in the den with their father, Loki's bottom lip stuck out petulantly as he scrambled to keep up, to not be overshadowed by his brother. His expression shutters at Odin's laugh, and he looks at the floor._

"Of course you do," Odin says, looking amused. 

\- 

The memory plays in Thor's mind even now as he sits at his desk almost twenty years later. He pinches the bright of his nose between forefinger and thumb, and struggles to will away the tension headache pulsing behind his eyes. Director Fury is standing at his door, arms crossed and a stern look, permanently etched into the hard lines of his face.

He can't close his eyes. Every time he does, the lifeless face of the newest murder victim stares, blankly, back up at him. Blue irises, startlingly like his own. 

"I'm gonna need to call your brother in on this one," Fury says slowly. He doesn't sound happy, people rarely do when they mention Loki. Thor's brother is, hands down, the best FBI profiler any of them have ever seen, but he isn't well liked, and they both know he'd never have got the job in the first place if Odin hadn't been there to pull the right strings. 

Loki's previous criminal record had been overlooked. Swept under the carpet - none of it was particularly serious - but enough to get him turned away by any respectable company or organisation he might want to apply to. Thor doesn't know how Odin managed it. He'd never deigned to ask. 

Thor looks up and blinks in the harsh fluorescent lighting. "Loki," he says, "Are you sure?" he frowns. He hasn't spoken to his brother in nearly three years. 

"Unfortunately," Fury sighs like he really means it, "I don't see any other options,"

Thor looks back down at the file on his desk, opened at the photographs of the crime scene, "Yeah," he says, "I guess not," 

\- 

Thor recognises Loki the moment he steps into the cafeteria. He hasn't changed much in the past few years, his hair looks a little longer, though it's still piled up into it's usual messy bun, slipping down to the nape of his neck where any loose strands curl and catch against the collar of his shirt. Thor makes his way over and pauses for a moment, behind the chair, shifting from foot to foot while he tries to gather the courage to say - anything. 

"Its - uh. Good to see you," he finally manages. Loki's shoulders tense, subtly, before he straightens up and turns around. His face looks minutely different, older, perhaps. The softness of youth given away to sharper cheekbones and a hardness in his expression that Thor almost doesn't recognise. 

"Thor," he says, by way of greeting, "It's been a while," 

Hasn't it just. "Three years," Thor replies, "Yeah." 

Loki hums, and then gestures with a hand to the empty seat beside him, "Well. Do sit, or would you rather stand there gawking all afternoon," 

He'd rather the interaction wasn't happening at all, but Thor's body moves of its own accord, and he takes the offered seat. Loki raises a brow, but otherwise says nothing as he lifts his mug and delicately sips his tea. Thor watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows, and then forces his gaze up to meet his brother's own inquisitive stare. 

"Where - what have you been doing with yourself," he asks, "These past couple years?" 

Loki sets the mug down and drums one set of fingers against the table. Thor glances down at his hand, finding it odd to see his brother's nails clean and without their trademark black nail polish. He's grown up, Thor supposes. That much is evident. 

"Oh," Loki waves the other hand, dismissively, in the air, "This and that. How's work,"

"The same old, really," Thor shrugs, feeling the conversation stiff and awkward, at odds with how easy things used to be between them. 

"I need to go," Loki announces, sitting back in his chair, "But we should do something later. Dinner, perhaps," there's a coyness in his expression, curling ever so slightly at the edge of his lips, and three years ago, Thor would have said yes without a moment's hesitation. 

But not now. 

He shakes his head, "No," he says, "I cant," and lets Loki take his own meaning from that. 

A nameless emotion flickers, briefly, across his brother's face, but it's gone in an instant as he shrugs and stands up. "Suit yourself." 

\- 

_They're both raised catholic, though Loki struggles with it the majority of his life; if Thor ever glances to his brother during mass he can see clear as day, Loki's hands clenched tightly in prayer, knuckles white. His facial expression tense and pensive as he stares straight ahead._

_"God doesn't love me," he says suddenly, one day when they are in their early teens. They're sitting in the garden and the sun is shining. Thor looks up from his book and frowns, "What?" he asks, not sure if he's heard correctly. Loki looks right at him._

_"I said," he repeats, "God doesn't love me," he shrugs a shoulder, and looks down at his hands as he mindlessly pulls blades of grass up from the soil. Thor's frown deepens, he can feel it creasing his forehead._

_"Of course he does. Don't be dumb, Loki, he loves everyone,"_

_His brother hums, turns his gaze from the earth to the sky. A moment passes in silence before he continues, voice soft, "No. Not people like me,"_

\- 

Victim number four is, inevitably, found just a few days later. 

Thor waits by the door and watches Loki squatting down on his knee as he analyses the crime scene.

He turns to Darcy, who's standing a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest and a grim look on her face. "What have we got?" he asks. 

Her eyes flicker briefly to meet his, and then dart back to the victim. "Another male in his mid twenties," she replies, "Your brother is certain it's the same killer. The only obvious links so far are approximate age and sex, but he's going to compare all the files later on," 

The crime scene is tidy. Unnervingly so. From the arrangement of the corpse on the floor - laid out flat, arms spread horizontally (Thor thinks, _a cruel imitation of Jesus on the cross_ ) - to the arterial spray on the wall; vivid red delicately splattered across pure white. Nothing seems out of place. Not even a hair on the victim's head. As if reading his thoughts, Loki stands up. 

"It's art," he says, glancing at first Darcy and then casting a lingering look towards his brother, "All of them. All of _this_ ," he gestures to the room entire, carefully steps his way around a pool of blood that's still drying on the laminate floor. 

Darcy snorts, "Nah way," she says, "Art's what you hang on your wall. This? This is fucked up," 

Loki flexes his fingers and the latex squeaks a little, "Not necessarily," he counters, "Art is self expression. Whoever did this is making a statement," he spins in a slow circle, points a gloved hand at the white wall, "Look at how perfect that arc is," he says, "Find me another crime scene constructed with such subtlety and delicacy. You wont. There's no sign of struggle or panic whatsoever. Everything is exactly where it's supposed to be," 

\- 

**(ii.)**

“Did you miss me?” Loki asks, and it’s a loaded question, as always. He’s sitting on the edge of Thor’s desk, legs swinging freely while one hand roots around in the top drawer. Thor lets the door click shut behind him and doesn’t bother to ask how his brother got past the locks. 

“Shall I take that as a no?” Loki glances up when Thor fails to answer. He quirks an eyebrow. The expression on his face is playful, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Of course I did,” he sighs, not liking where this is headed. “Are you looking through my stuff?” he adds. 

Loki rolls his eyes, “No,” he closes the drawer, “Anyway your response fails to convince me,” 

Thor fights the urge to let out another sigh, and instead crosses his arms and gives his brother a hard look, “Loki, if you cared so much about how I felt, you wouldn’t have left in the first place,” he says. It’s a low move, but he can’t help it. There's no missing the way Loki flinches. 

“You know damn well Thor,” he says, and his voice is tight, "That you're the reason I had to in the first place," 

“That doesn't mean I stopped caring about you," 

Loki looks away. “You _caring_ wasn’t enough,” 

“You’re my brother-” Thor starts, but Loki turns back to him with a glare. 

“Shut up,” he snaps, getting to his feet, "Whatever it is, Thor, I don't need to hear it."

Thor takes a step forwards, "Loki," 

"Don't," Loki says, keeping his eyes firmly ahead of him as he pushes past, and slams the door behind him. 

\- 

_They're young when they tumble into bed together without a care in the world. Younger still when they kiss for the first time; grasping drunkenly at one another in their haste._

_It goes on for the summer. They think (Thor worries) that perhaps, when school returns, it'll come to an inevitable end. It doesn't. They find each other in their free time; in the school bathrooms and quiet corridors and in their rooms, late at night when the house is asleep._

_It lasts a year, before things go horribly wrong._

\- 

“Why is he doing this?” Sif asks, hands pressed hard against her temples. It’s four AM and there’s nothing she wants more than to go home and get some sleep; they all do, but they can’t. There’s far too much at stake. 

Darcy taps a pen against her lips, staring thoughtfully at all of the evidence laid out before them. 

“Eight bodies in just over one month,” she says, “What links them all? Are we to assume that the killer just goes out and slaughters the first good looking blonde guy he claps eyes on? I think it’s deeper than that,” she turns to Loki, who’s sitting quietly in the corner, chin propped up on the palm of his hand, and gives him an expectant look. 

“Don't get me wrong, it's a tricky one,” he says, sitting up, “None of them have the same interests, jobs, backgrounds...some of them were in relationships, others were single, they lived in different parts of town, socialised with different groups of people...I- I don’t know,” he swallows, "Our guy is an artist. He's choosing them all for a reason, likely a very specific one. But I don't even know where to begin trying to figure out what that _is_ ,"

“You’re our best fucking chance of catching this guy,” Darcy groans, putting her head in her hands, “If you don’t know, what hope do we have?” 

\- 

**(iii.)**

"So," Loki begins, when the car rolls to a stop outside Thor's apartment, "Aren't you going to invite me in?" He pulls the handbrake and glances over after a moment, the streetlights making strange shadows dance across his face. He looks different in the glow; honest in a way Thor can't remember ever having seen before. 

He watches his brother's fingers flex around the steering wheel, and forces his gaze away. "I thought we agreed this wasn't a good idea anymore, Loki," 

A wry smile finds its way to Loki's face, "Don't put words in my mouth, Thor. I didn't say what I planned on doing when we got there," Loki turns away; eyes focusing on something in the distance. Thor studies his reflection in the glass for a moment.

"Yeah, you didn't say," he replies, "But I know you, Loki. I know what you were thinking-" 

Loki cuts him off with a snort, "You don't know the half of it," he pauses, "However, for the sake of humouring you. Say you're right; why not? Why _isn't_ it a good idea?"

Thor can't believe they're having this conversation, "Because we nearly got _caught_ ," 

"We were kids," Loki snaps "We're not kids now, people aren't going to stick their noses into our business in the same way. We can do whatever the fuck we want," Loki counters, and then adds, as an afterthought, "Unless you moved on," 

Thor wonders, sometimes, how his brother manages to turn everything into an argument. He doesn't take the bait, "Look, it's getting late," he says, opening the car door, "We have work tomorrow. If you really want this conversation, then there are plenty of better times to have it. Goodnight, Loki," 

\- 

\- 

The next time Thor sees his brother is two days later; in the morgue, standing around a relatively fresh corpse. Loki looks unperturbed as his eyes follow the pathologist's scalpel. 

It's silent, save for the sound of flesh parting around steel. Fandral looks up, hand pausing in the middle of his work. "Have you guys fallen out or something?" he asks, glancing pointedly between the two of them.

_"No_ ," Thor answers, a little too quickly. Loki barely reacts, but Fandral's eyebrows shoot up. 

"You sure?" he asks, "'Cause I could cut the tension in here with my scalpel," he raises the instrument, crudely miming a cutting motion for added effect.

Loki sighs. "I assure you, Fandral, whatever it may be is none of your business," 

Fandral looks from one brother to another, and then nods, "Yeah. Yeah, guess not," he returns to his work, "So, uh. Back to the matter at hand... Same story for this poor guy. Cause of death is bleeding due to a severed artery in the neck...you know what I don't understand?" he looks up at Loki thoughtfully, "Why all the post mortem injuries? Why remove the organs?" 

"You said something about a statement," Thor offers. 

"Yeah," Loki says, after a pause, "Yeah," he looks up, and his next words chill Thor to the bone, "It feels like a warning; look what I can do," 

\- 


End file.
